


Delicacy

by Bee_Knee



Series: Grievous Does Stuff [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Culture, Gen, Kaleesh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bee_Knee/pseuds/Bee_Knee
Summary: Kaleesh isn't the name of a people; it is the name of a dish.
Series: Grievous Does Stuff [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860991
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Delicacy

The sound of screams and droid blasters were the only sensations General Grievous could take pleasure in.

He long had forgotten touch, tastes, smells…

Only his eyes and audio receptors served him, and the sights had long become mundane.

If Grievous wasn't on the field, slaughtering some nameless faces, he was stuck inside a wretched ship; which all looked the same. Ship innards rarely diverged from a dull, mass-produced mold.

The General had long gone insane, he knew it, in what little organic parts remained. He was deranged if random sounds from a battle were the only things he looked forward to.

Fortunately, this particular battle offered more interesting stimuli than the usual. The planet was a civilized, economic-powerhouse and rich shopping districts littered every corner.

It also meant the battle would last much longer and Grievous for once, wasn't the only high-military Separatist power in the area.

This allowed Grievous to give himself the luxury to look over the shops; "window shopping," Count Dooku had called it.

Most offered products useless to him: snacks, hygiene liquids, clothing, and household decor.

It was almost depressing, seeing what he couldn't have and the civilian life he never would've had, even if he'd stayed organic.

His homeplanet Kalee was too poverty-stricken to even begin to understand such luxuries.

And Grievous was too important an individual; neither himself nor the authorities around him would've dared let him go to waste.

He entered one shop, with a title he couldn't pronounce. Inside he found primitive glass and ceramic knickknacks, a gift shop then.

Tentatively, he picked up a glass figure and began to peruse the shelves. He almost looked normal in the dark shop, just another customer he allowed himself to be...for a few, precious seconds.

Glass shattered under him claws.

Grievous closed his eyes, a relished the sound.

He picked up another…and another…until each were sharp crumbs beneath his talons.

The sounds reminded him of battle, of snapping necks and crumpled houses.

Grievous stood quietly, horrified. He couldn't relate the sounds to anything else besides a battlefield...was his mind so empty?

With a shaking step back, he concluded, yes. He was empty, he couldn't remember…

He couldn't remember...life before all this...

Grievous gestured his claws, pointing to the mess he'd made, as if it held a solution.

He was insane, he knew that; a living organic didn't become entombed in metal and remain the same.

The dear General was merely in denial about how much of his transformation was negative. He used to think lovely of it, with pride he'd flexed his beautiful steel claws, but now he felt only disgust.

He closed his eyes to will his body away, the mundane durasteel texture, the sanitized white surfaces; but, it all remained. He was trapped.

Never would he see his beautiful maroon skin, not even when he closed his eyes

He didn't remember... didn't remember...being alive.

He only knew that skin, by the reflection of his claws.

Grievous closed his eyes, wanting just a flicker…something to remember...

Then...the shelves began to topple over…

Crink, crash!

A beautiful orchestra of sounds assaulted his audio receptors as he blindly annihilated the shop.

The glass and debris were overwhelming to his talons.

Crick, snap snap!

So delightful, how pleasant he felt.

Grievous would dare call it "fun," save for the bloody spoils of battle, of course!

It was over all too soon, but Grievous didn't dare linger, he had a job to do!

The reality and responsibilities of his situation blinked fast in his eyes, not even the sense of sight was left untouched by his transformation.

Grievous sped out the shop, past many others.

He paused when he came across an area on fire. Unlike other aspects of a battlefield, he didn't like fire. It couldn't help but to attract his attention, so he turned into the fiery path.

Grievous's military-division was devoted to the ground-assault, no orbital bombardments were scheduled for this area, so he felt safe to proceed.

The shopping district morphed into a residential one, and as expected, the civilians were either dead, or locked down tight.

As long as said civilians weren't out on the road where Grievous could see them, he wasn't obligated to kill them.

Still, his lightsabers itched to be used. A battle was ongoing and he was in the wrong area to find resistance.

How exactly did he get here? Grievous didn't bother answering himself.

His curiosity took hold and he began to swivel his head side to side as he ran.

He was on a lookout for a path back to the battle, but a neighborhood thick with fire caught his attention first.

Grievous ran down it's length, slower due to the licking fire. He didn't like fire, true, but all the more reason to investigate.

In his warped, empty mind, facing something unpleasant also signaled something worth doing.

And there, at the end, he saw it. The gods of his people must have been guiding him. A great wrong had been done against his people, there among the fire.

Grievous slowly walked closer, horror and curiosity unified. He sidestepped many patches of burning rubble, until a smoldering building came into view.

It was a restaurant, mundane to anyone else; but to the General, it was a shop of revolting cruelty, an affront to the Gods!

A place of horrible memory, and it burned hot in his mind. His natural anger stilled, smoldering as he burned on the inside.

It...wasn't supposed to go so far. Such evil was to remain exclusive to the Huk planet, owned by the twisted Yam'rii he could never see as a people.

Grievous naively believed...the Yam'rii would keep their evil to themselves...yet here it was.

The entrance was in front of him now. He tentatively walked in, eyes widening.

It looked to be an average cantina, still untouched by the fires outside; however, Grievous vowed to change that.

The restaurant had been evacuated in a panic. Only hours ago it had been occupied, before his attack.

As he eyed abandoned articles and uneaten dishes; thankfully, he did not see the evil he was looking for.

Regardless, he prayed to the Gods. He willed those that dared support such a place had all burned alive by the mess outside.

He walked past the seating and mundane furniture, taking care not to touch the cursed pieces.

The end turned into a kitchen.

The General, hesitated.

He hoped he'd been mistaken. Perhaps the Yam'rii's evil hadn't spread?

But any useless, clouding doubts died as Grievous stepped into the kitchen.

Already he noticed staples of Yam'rii cuisine, knotted purple roots, pickled insect larvae...disgusting, all of it!

Grievous's anger grew, his shock waning. He rushed to the back, finding numerous freezing appliances.

He flipped one open...searching…

Another he opened…and another…

Then the horrible evidence was in front of him. Carefully, he lifted it close, to view the horrible truth.

General Grievous wanted to scream, to crush the cursed evidence beneath his feet.

But his anger left him again, stewing in his mind. His arms shook, overcome with grief.

It was his namesake. He'd just remembered why.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A memory, the first of many...the most long lasting...

Many red bodies, Grievous remembered. He'd been one, small and compact against the others. Not yet was he Grievous, nor Qymaen. Kaleesh so small didn't get names.

He felt heated glass beneath his small feet, just warm enough not to be uncomfortable. Outside he could look, but not go out; all the red bodies had been enclosed.

Suddenly, a burst of water rained down on the small kaleesh, cleaning their bodies and feet. It was the same temperature as the glass and the process was very pleasant.

Their red scales glimmered like treasures and this was the only time the kaleesh found reason to look up, to see where the water fell.

They never could make out what was above them; at least the kaleesh known to be Grievous.

He was the smallest among the bodies. The others crowded him out, sitting atop him and blocking what little view he had.

At times, they scratched and bit at his ears, causing bleeding sores. He knew his place and was content to stay at the bottom of the pile, pressed close against the glass.

Sometimes a finger would tap at the glass enclosure, but the steam produced by the warm, raining water would obscure any view. Rarely, the steam dwindled down, and when it did, the sight was never pleasant.

Any color not red or a neutral white alarmed the kaleesh. The food they ate was red, a mashed paste they didn't bother to chew and licked from the walls. The water trickling down was frothy white: like the glass, the walls, everywhere they looked.

And everyday, a kaleesh went missing, picked up by a color they had no use for. The selected kaleesh was always pulled up by a strange, green claw. It smelled of nothing, was nothing, as far as the others were concerned.

But once the picked up kaleesh was out of sight, it would start screaming and the others would grow still.

The kaleesh didn't understand, but each would when the claw claimed them.

Sometimes more kaleesh were added, the red bodies becoming a crushing burden for the smallest at the bottom; but, more often kaleesh went missing and the same one never returned.

The numbers became as little as ten, than five...three…

The remaining bodies pressed together tightly, freezing and screaming now as the claw took them.

Only now they understood the claw was bad. It was taking away friends and not returning them.

Then one day, one terrible moment, the kaleesh to be Grievous was alone, the last one.

The claw came fast, he didn't have a chance! He screamed, terrified to leave the only place he understood.

An awful face...green,vile...thick flesh that smiled with numerous claws, the mandibles of a yam'rii but he didn't know it then.

Cruel black eyes stared down on him, unmoving, unyielding. It scoffed with horrible clicking sounds, antennae twitching in dislike as it poked the small kaleesh's body.

The kaleesh could do nothing, too shocked to struggle as it beheld the terrible behemoth and the reality of the claw that held it.

Eyes wild, it spotted the remnants of kaleesh below it, an endless pile of red that smelled of death.

And fire, so much fire. It bellowed like another monster altogether, clicking metal pans and utensils that the last kaleesh couldn't understand.

The claw then moved, bringing him farther from the glass he knew, the horrors he saw.

Then smack! The claw dropped him, and for the first time in his life the kaleesh didn't feel glass.

He felt hurt, against the dark ground his small claws flexed over, as he moved.

For the first time, the kaleesh felt cold and not warm.

For the first time, he could walk as far in a single direction as he wanted. There was no more glass, he realized as he blinked away his pain and confusion.

Was this what the claw did? Why then, was he alone?

His nostrils flared, the first time he wanted to know a smell. Air, cold air, not humid, but crisp, clear! He didn't understand, but knew one important thing...he was alive, and the others...were not.

He was alone.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

General Grievous had been standing still, reminiscing for a few minutes as his internal clock had recorded.

He tilted his head, checking on communications with his droid army. Grievous was disappointed to find the droids hadn't reported anything of interest, he was desperate to get his mind off the terrible reality he was still holding.

The evidence had been frozen before Grievous had that shocking recollection. It was the earliest memory he had, and it was extremely painful. Now it had defrosted, creating a nasty puddle and set off the cold receptors in Grievous's chest.

Grievous closed his eyes, not to will the memory away, but to gather the nerve to look down on what he held.

Slowly, he saw, silently mourning as he beheld the frozen faces of small, nameless kaleesh. Their eyes were wide in terror, some in confusion.

Grievous stretched a hand over the frozen children, three...no, five, six…could fit in his massive claws. So small and young, they didn't know they'd been alive before they died. Grievous consoled himself with the bitter idea.

Reality came back to the General and he snapped to attention. He had a battle to get back to…

But he could not bring himself to put down the frozen children, back into their frozen prison.

Grievous looked around and noticed another bitter truth.

The kitchen was empty. The cooking appliances remained off.

These children died for nothing!

Not even in death could the children fulfill their dark propose. Even if a starving yam'rii came crawling along the floor begging to eat them, Grievous wouldn't let it live long enough to do so…

Grievous shook his head, too sick to be angry.

Clack!

The frozen children fell to the ground, smashing apart. Grievous's claws twitched, unintelligibly in the air.

The mental turmoil was making him unfit for battle, he noted. He glanced behind himself, half expecting to see disgusting yam'rii to go and kill. Alas, he could only do with delusions.

Grievous brought his attention again to the freezer, finding it filled to the brim with clusters of frozen kaleesh children.

Stepping away, Grievous boiled, his mind finally snapping. A long, agonized screech left him, a promise to the gods! He...he would right this horror, somehow!

He looked down at the children he'd dropped. They were mostly unfrozen now, trapped in the twisted formations of death. Gently he picked them up, holding them subconsciously to his chest, cherishing them as no one had ever done.

He placed them back into their frozen prison and he could think of only one solution the gods would accept.

Screeching again, a great beast of mourning, he gripped the freezer, now closed as his claws dug into it.

No organic could pull an entire freezing appliance out from its foundation and Grievous delighted when it tore like a blade of grass, shooting up hissing sparks and metal.

With a simple, quick method, Grievous dragged the freezer outdoors, back into the battle and burning rubble. Grievous blinked in relief, happy to be out of that terrible place.

He stepped up to a huge burning fire. It would serve the purpose nicely. Taking off his cape, he threw it into the fire, a means to purify it.

Grievous opened the freezer and gently took out the children. He placed them into the heart of the inferno...and waited.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So if "kaleesh" was like the word "chicken." Also, I headcanon General Grievous likes ASMR.


End file.
